The Founders
by ttchaku
Summary: It’s about a timeless story with many beginnings, middles and ends. It’s about four ordinary people who did one extraordinary thing, but mostly, it’s about friendship, love and one boy who strived for the impossible and succeeded. GodricHarry.
1. Founder, Born

**The Founders **

**Founder, Born**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Summary: **It's about a timeless story with many beginnings, middles and ends. It's about four ordinary people who did one extraordinary thing, but mostly, it's about friendship, love and one boy who strived for the impossible and succeeded. Godric/Harry.

**A/N: **This is a fic that I told myself that I'd never do, but I got inspired by the story: H is for Helga. It interested me so much that I started thinking about Hogwarts and the Founders and so on. Unfortunately I can't write a story without Harry. He's my character-in-one, so this ended up becoming a Harry-travels-to-the-past-where-he-becomes-Salazar-Slytherin story. Again, something I didn't expect or want to happen, but life takes interesting turns sometimes. I hope everyone enjoys the story, and remember, REVIEW!

**

* * *

**

_It is rumored that after Godric Gryffindor finally kissed Salazar Slytherin for the first time, Salazar frowned and looked away. When his friends and soon-to-be-lover asked him what was wrong, he muttered:_

"_I don't like surprises. They require too many contingency plans." _

_-page 58, The True History of the Founders, by Finnegan E. Dumbledore_

* * *

**H**arry flipped through the final pages of his history book with something approaching dread. He still hadn't found the proper information about the Centaur Rampages yet and it was his third time looking through the dull text. Next to him, Ron was anxiously looking through one of the school library books for help with his own history report. Across from both of them was Hermione finishing her transfiguration essay with a flourish. That was due soon too, Harry thought with a sinking stomach, and it had to be at least twelve inches. Hermione had written more than fifteen, with small handwriting.

Hermione noticed him looking and dealt him a severe look. "Stop pouting Harry Potter. You had two weeks to research this project and did you lift even one book? No. Did you ask me for help? No. Did you even look at the topic that you had been given? No!"

Harry winced, his shoulders scrunching himself back into his history book. "I'm sorry Hermione, but-"

"Oh honestly," Hermione muttered, "You two have to grow up. We're in fifth year and OWLS are coming up. We. Need. To. Prepare." Hermione punctuated every word with a slap to the wood table, causing several other students in the library to look at them with confusion and then understanding. "Now that you're behind on your history report, you'll fall behind on transfiguration and then on potions and-"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted earnestly, "instead of yelling at us, why don't you give us a hand? I could use some-"

A loud crash rocked the library causing Madame Pince to squawk in dismay. The other students shrieked and Harry and Ron dove under the oak table, wands in hands, while Hermione scrabbled for her textbooks and parchment. In exasperation, Ron reached over the table and dragged Hermione under the table.

"What's going on?" Harry hissed as another crash sent the trio tumbling to the ground.

"I- I'm not sure!" Hermione said frantically, pulling her wand out.

Harry gently pushed aside some books that had fallen in front of the table and peered out into the library. Craning his neck uncomfortably, Harry spotted black robes and a bone white mask. Harry quickly pulled his head out of sight and crouched next to his friends, steadying himself as another blast sent more books tumbling around them.

"Deatheaters!" Harry whispered to his friends. "We've got to help the other students!"

"Right," Ron answered, his freckles standing out in his paling face. "Come on, we can go through here."

Ron led Harry and Hermione out under the table. Quietly, the three Gryffindors snuck behind the tables and into the Restricted Section, hiding among the tall rows of books. Harry took the lead, gesturing for Hermione and Ron to follow him up one of the steadier bookshelves (the one containing books on invisibility charms tended to be temperamental: read, disappear) and pulled himself onto the top of the shelf, toes gripping for the final holds to push himself out of the way of Ron who was helping Hermione find places to keep her feet.

Once all three were on the top of the bookshelf, Hermione coughing from the musty dust, Harry pointed to the Deatheaters who were spreading through the library kicking over tables and chairs and rounding up the students and Madame Pince to one side. Several students were sniffling and others had small wounds, but no one seemed seriously hurt. On the other side of the room there were shadowy figures pounding at the door, which seemed to be locked with some sort of binding charm.

"Alright," Ron whispered, ducking as a Deatheater chanced a glance upwards. "One of us needs to go open the door so that Dumbledore can get in. Then we can go help the rest of the students."

"Good idea," Harry murmured, "I'll go open the doors. You two cover me from up here."

Before either of them could stop him, Harry slipped down the other side of the bookshelf and scampered towards around the back of the bookshelves until he reached the other side of the side. Diving to the floor, Harry crawled in back of an upturned table just as a Deatheater walked past, squinting suspicious at the shelves. Harry crept past him and darted between tables and chairs until he finally began nearing the library door.

Readying his wand, Harry prepared to jump up and shout Alohomora, but suddenly, Hermione shrieked and another crash shook the library. Harry looked back and realized that the Deatheaters must have discovered Ron and Hermione because their bookshelf had been toppled, books spewing out like lava. As they fell, the books seemed to take on a life of their own, not only carrying Ron and Hermione down to relative safety, but also aiming themselves at various Deatheaters.

Taking advantage of the sudden screams of Deatheaters and other general mayhem created by the rocketing books, Harry sprang towards the door, the unlocking charm on his lips when he was suddenly grabbed around the waist and thrown away. Harry landed with a hard bounce and swearing, jumped back to his feet to face the Deatheater in front of him.

However, instead of attacking him as Harry was tensed for, the Deatheater merely threw a square shaped object at him. Ducking the object so that it flew over his left shoulder, Harry pointed his wand past the Deatheater at the door. "Alo-"

The object crashed to the ground directly behind him and clanged to stop.

Immediately, soft vapors rose from the covered object and began wrapping themselves around Harry and the Deatheater in front of him. The Deatheater screamed loudly and tried to brush the tendrils away, which seemed silly to Harry because the tendrils were made of gas and couldn't be picked off like sand, but tendrils were also tightening themselves around Harry, making him sleepy and not the best judge of character.

Harry distantly heard, rather than felt himself finish, "-homora," and then he fell.

A long, long way.

**T**o **B**e **C**ontinued…


	2. Founder, Taken

**The Founders **

**Founder, Taken**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Summary: **It's about a timeless story with many beginnings, middles and ends. It's about four ordinary people who did one extraordinary thing, but mostly, it's about friendship, love and one boy who strived for the impossible and succeeded. Godric/Harry.

**A/N: **This is a fic that I told myself that I'd never do, but I got inspired by the story: H is for Helga. It interested me so much that I started thinking about Hogwarts and the Founders and so on. Unfortunately I can't write a story without Harry. He's my character-in-one, so this ended up becoming a Harry-travels-to-the-past-where-he-becomes-Salazar-Slytherin story. Again, something I didn't expect or want to happen, but life takes interesting turns sometimes. I hope everyone enjoys the story, and remember, REVIEW!!!

**

* * *

**

_Godric Gryffindor was always considered to be a strange man. He enjoyed the silliest things. Things such as laying in the soft grass, looking idly at the sky. Things such as putting together intricate little machines that would annoy his wizarding counterparts. Things such as sitting lazily by the small sapling near the pond at Hogwarts. _

_Once Salazar decided to join him. Godric smiled at him and sidling over to him, kissed him lightly on the nose. "Why are you out here?" Salazar asked softly._

_"I was thinking about Merlin."_

_"Really," Salazar said teasingly, "What did he say?"_

_**"**Nothing," Godric answered dreamily, "He was playing Quidditch."_

_"Oh?" Salazar questioned, "Quidditch? That's why he didn't talk to you?" _

_Godric shrugged and rolled on top of Salazar, nuzzling his neck. "Maybe," he whispered into Salazar's neck, "Maybe he's our dream…and we're his."_

_-page 1002, The True History of the Founders, by Finnegan E. Dumbledore_

**

* * *

****G**odric was what some would call of an easy-going nature. He didn't mind lying in the garden watching the clouds float by lazily. He didn't mind the slight breeze that made the lilies and petunias tremble. He didn't mind the cold, hard stone that abruptly ended his view of the sky and marked the private gardens of the Gryffindor family. 

He did, however, mind when persons flying out of the bloody _sky_ landed on him.

Godric grunted in pain as a young boy crashed into him. "What in Merlin's name…" Godric trailed off as he pushed the child off him, noting his dark coloring and closed eyes. "Who are you?"

The boy moaned, his green eyes fluttering open. He was wearing strange robes, much more casual than anything Godric had ever seen on a proper wizard, and yet he wasn't dressed poorly enough to be one of the masses. Maybe these were his nightclothes?

"Where am-"

Suddenly Godric realized that there was another person in the garden with them and that that person was limping towards them with a desperate look on his face. Just as he lifted his wand, Godric threw himself over the young boy and pointed his hand at the man, pushing his magic towards the man and molding it properly as his hand tightened into a fist. Immediately, the man froze, his wand dropping from his hand. Gracefully stepping to his feet, Godric pulled his own wand, which was lying next to a tree a couple yards away, into his hand and then helped the boy next to him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Uhh…" The dark-haired boy still looked dazed and shook his head several times as if to clear it.

"What's your name?" he asked, noticing that the boy had a wand of his own dangling loosely from his hand. Godric tried to gently remove the wand, but as soon as he touched it, the boy's green eyes focused and he jerked away defensively.

"I'm Harry," he said, tightening his grip on his wand.

"Of the Slytherin line?" Godric guessed. The boy looked extraordinarily like a Slytherin with his black hair and vivid eyes and he was obviously a wizard, but he didn't look like any Slytherin Godric had ever seen.

"Slytherin? No, I'm a Gryffindor." Harry said, now frowning as he looked around the garden.

"Now look here," Godric started, "You're no Gryffindor. I'd recognize one of my clan. You're definitely a Slytherin."

"What are you talking about? I think I'd know my own house!"

"Right, right, don't get upset." Godric said calmly, eyeing the frozen man who was still struggling vainly for his wand. He was wearing dark robes and a white mask had fallen at his feet. "Do you know this man?" he asked Harry, gesturing at the snarling man.

A look of recognition crossed Harry's face. "That's Macnair."

"Macnair…never heard of the family. Anyway, he'll go to the penitentiary. That's the penalty for attacking one of the descendents. First though, let's get you back to your family."

"What family? My name's Harry Potter." Harry half-yelled, fuming.

"A Potter…well maybe, the Potters are an odd bunch though, rumored to be made of both Slytherins and Gryffindors' linage, but…" Godric appraised the boy once more. "I haven't seen such distinctive coloring in anyone but a Slytherin. You look almost exactly like Salazar Slytherin."

"Sala-" suddenly Harry paled dramatically. "Oh Merlin."

"So you remember?" Godric asked, looking at the boy with concern.

"No…I- What year is it?" Harry asked frantically.

"Year?" Godric asked with confusion. "It's 990."

"Oh." Harry wavered and then slowly sunk to the ground.

Godric leaned forward and hoisted Harry up. "Alright lad, come on now, lets get you home."

"But…but…" Harry tried faintly.

"Don't you worry, I'll get you home." Godric assured him.

Godric wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him inside his house, waving a hand to make Macnair trail after him. Once inside, Godric went straight to the fireplace, throwing a pinch of floo powder in it.

"Slytherin." Godric said firmly.

Almost immediately a small knobby head popped into the fireplace. "What does the master need?" the small elf squeaked.

"I want to speak with Salazar Slytherin." Godric ordered.

The elf nodded and disappeared back into the fire. Godric turned and smiled at Harry reassuringly. "Don't worry," he said, rubbing Harry's back, "You'll be back home soon."

"But I'm-"

"Godric Gryffindor-" Godric noticed Harry go even paler at the sound of his name "You called?"

"Yes," Godric bowed shortly, Salazar Slytherin was important, but not important enough to ever show real respect to. "I have a boy here in my company. I believe he belongs to your clan."

"My clan." Salazar's face twisted into an ironic smile, his jade green eyes flashing. "Well let me see him, or do you feel so protective of him that you must hide him behind you?"

"What-" Godric looked behind him and noticed that Harry was gripping his shirt almost fearfully. "Oh, for Merlin's- Harry, come out so he can see you."

Harry inched out from behind Godric and stared fitfully at Salazar.

Godric hesitated and leaned closer to Salazar. "I don't know what's wrong with him. I believe he hit his head."

"Well," Salazar's black hair seemed to waver as he thought. "He certainly looks like a Slytherin." Salazar seemed to think for a moment. "Well come on boy," he suddenly barked, "Move."

Harry jumped at the command and Godric took the chance to give him a little push towards the fireplace. Stumbling forward, Harry tripped into the fireplace and fell through.

Neither boy knew it, but their worlds were about to change.

* * *

Salazar jerked Harry forward, out of the fireplace. Harry winced as the green-eyed man dragged him out of the antechamber where the fireplace was located and into a dark hallway lit with torches. Jerking him around, Salazar grabbed Harry's chin and turning it upwards, inspected it carefully. 

"You look like a Slytherin." he commented calmly. Then, he snapped, "Who are your parents, boy?"

Without thinking Harry answered, "My parents are dead, and I'm not a Slytherin." he snipped, jerking his head away from the man's grasp. He had no idea why this point was so important right now since he was pretty sure that this wasn't some outlandish dream and that he really was in the 990's and that he really had just met a very young Godric Gryffindor and that he was nothing like Harry had expected him to be and…and well, if that was true then Hogwarts hadn't even been created yet. "I'm not a Slytherin." he repeated dazedly, his legs starting to wobble underneath him.

"Not a Slytherin." Salazar mused before laughing, a short, harsh sound to Harry's ears. "No need to be embarrassed, boy. There are plenty of bastards in the Slytherin line. Come."

He swept down the hall before Harry could protest. Why was no one listening to him? Surely they didn't think he was so stupid that he didn't even know what his parentage was? Staring as Salazar strode down the hall, Harry shifted uncertainly until finally deciding to follow the elder man. Stumbling down the hall, Harry shivered in the draft, clutching his robes to him anxiously.

Could…could this even be possible? Harry knew that time-travel was possible, but being transported to the age of the founders? It must have been what the Death Eater was carrying. He had to have something to do with this. Harry opened his mouth to tell the other man to stop, to tell him that he had to turn back and find Macnair, but he shut it with a snap. This was Salazar Slytherin. One of the Founders. One of the people who created Hogwarts. The man who bred the basilisk to kill the muggle-borns. Harry shuddered at the last thought. He might want to keep quiet about his time-travel theories for a while…at least until Harry got to know the man.

"You will live with me." Salazar announced, stopping in front of a room and turning to face Harry. He eyed the short boy speculatively for a second and then: "Yes," he murmured, "Yes, you'll do nicely. You have a good sized reservoir of magic. I will help train you, but in return, I will expect certain…things from you."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention to Salazar's inspecting look, or the greedy way his hand clenched and unclenched at his sides. In fact, he didn't pay any attention at all to the man in front of him until he hissed in parseltongue: "Death to Gryffindor."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked stupidly.

Salazar raised an eyebrow mockingly. "I mean exactly what I said." he answered, propelling Harry through the now open door.

Suddenly Harry gathered his wits to him again. "I don't really belong there," he said quickly, trying to stall his entrance into the room. "I'm not a Slytherin."

"But you understand and probably speak Parseltongue." Salazar countered smugly, "You are a Slytherin." With that Salazar shoved Harry into the small bedroom and shut the door.

"No!" Harry yelled, as he heard a lock click, "I'm really, really not…" Harry's voice trailed off and in a small whisper, as he looked around the sparse room, he finished, "Maybe I should have taken off when I had a chance."

**T**o** B**e** C**ontinued**… **


	3. Founder, Trapped

**The Founders **

**Founder, Trapped**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**Summary: **It's about a timeless story with many beginnings, middles and ends. It's about four ordinary people who did one extraordinary thing, but mostly, it's about friendship, love and one boy who strived for the impossible and succeeded. Godric/Harry.

**A/N: **This is a fic that I told myself that I'd never do, but I got inspired by the story: H is for Helga. It interested me so much that I started thinking about Hogwarts and the Founders and so on. Unfortunately I can't write a story without Harry. He's my character-in-one, so this ended up becoming a Harry-travels-to-the-past-where-he-becomes-Salazar-Slytherin story. Again, something I didn't expect or want to happen, but life takes interesting turns sometimes. I hope everyone enjoys the story, and remember, REVIEW!!!

**

* * *

**

_Rowena Ravenclaw liked things to be in order. Straight and to the point: that was her motto. _

_This defining trait of hers was probably why she couldn't be in the same room as Godric Gryffindor for more than fifteen minutes without trying to curse the living daylights out of him. Her inability to tolerate Godric for long periods of time put definable strains on the quartet's friendship and made traveling with the two of them a mind-numbingly horrifying experience. It also exhausted the peacemaker of the group: Helga Hufflepuff, who once came down with what was once thought of as solely a Muggle disease, Carpal's Tunnel, due to the many letters she forged trying to get the two to reach a reconciliation (she was, of course, diagnosed thousands of years later; at the time, it was considered to be only an annoying little pain in the forearm of her left hand). _

_Even worse and completely vexing to Salazar was that the two also seemed to be the best of friends. _

_-page 25, The True History of the Founders, by Finnegan E. Dumbledore_

**

* * *

**

**H**arry wiped a smattering of blood from his nose, barely staunching the steady flow dripping down and splattering onto his crisp white shirt. "This…" he started dazedly, "This isn't working."

Salazar pursed his lips. "You're not trying hard enough, boy!" he hissed as he paced around the small study surrounded by old tombs that he and Harry were working in. "Concentrate!"

Harry shut his eyes tightly against tears. "I've tried." He said in a small voice, "I've tried and tried and I-" his voice broke. "I need a break. We've been at this for days. Days! I need-"

Salazar smacked him harshly with a cane across his shoulders. "No break. No break until we finish. Try again."

Harry choked back a sob and tried to visualize what they were creating again. It wasn't too hard. Salazar was doing most of the work, really. All Harry had to do was to infuse the time magic with a simple transportation spell, but he was tired.

If Harry had thought that the stories about Salazar were bad, then the real thing was a monstrosity. Ever since the first day Harry had arrived, Salazar had been making him do things. At first it was simple stuff like transfiguring a teapot into a posy just to test his skills, but soon it was wandless magic and then darker things. Darker things like studying the very magic that held together the very roots of the world.

Pure magic, that's what Salazar had called it. Harry had never heard about it before, but he was starting to think that it was one of those things purposely lost to keep from being misused. At least, that's what Harry would do with Pure Magic- obliviate anyone who'd ever heard of the art and burn all the texts.

Other spells were filtered and diluted, but pure magic was the most powerful. It consisted of parts like earth magic, fire magic, water magic, wind magic, and time magic. There were more, of course, but Salazar made him concentrate on those five.

It had taken him weeks to be able to even touch the bloody stuff and Harry was convinced that the only reason he could was because he hadn't slept in weeks due to these awful potions that Salazar kept forcing down his throat. It felt like he was half out of his mind, but Salazar insisted that it was because he had finally reached a mage state where magic would come at just a hum.

Harry didn't feel much like a mage.

"Boy!" Harry jerked upwards. "Are you visualizing?" Salazar snapped.

Harry nodded mutely. They were trying to create some sort of crude time turner, but he was…was…

"Boy," this time, Salazar's voice was gentle. "You've done so well so far, and this is the last thing you'll have to do for me for a while. You can sleep after this." His voice curled seductively in Harry's ear and Harry started to sob soundlessly. "I'll let you rest. Now take the magic and push."

Harry buried his head in his hands and reached out for the magic once again. Before it had been hard to hold onto it, like trying to catch light, but Harry had learned that this magic, while more difficult to use, was everywhere, so Harry just reached out and plucked it from the air.

It was time anyway; it had to be everywhere.

Blood snorting as he tried to hold his breath, Harry carefully molded the time magic into the shape he wanted. Luckily he was intimately acquainted with time turners and knew exactly what he wanted it to look like. Slowly, once the molding was finished, he began to push it out of the cerebral world and into the corporal one. This was the hardest part. Pure magic was temperamental and if you didn't listen to the magic, if you led instead of following, then it'd scatter into millions of tiny pieces and Harry would have to start all over again.

It had happened the last twenty-two times, after all.

Barely breathing, Harry gently pushed at the magic, prodding it slightly, until a speck of glimmering gold appeared in the air. Slowly, it expanded, solidifying into the shape Harry had envisioned in his mind. Then quickly, as the magic begun to harden in place, Harry strung a transportation spell through, flinching when the two combined made a hollow gong like sound in the air. Suddenly the object hardened completely and fell into Harry's hands. Just as quickly, Salazar snatched it out of Harry's hands, dangling the time turner like a bauble from the gold meted chain.

Harry looked at him.

"Yes," Salazar said harshly, examining the time turner. "Go. Get out of here."

Harry stumbled out of the rooms, shivering in his threadbare clothes. Clutching his shirt to him tightly, Harry staggered down the hallway to his rooms. Pushing open his door, Harry tripped over the threshold and frantically shoved the door closed behind him as if that would keep Salazar out. Then he crossed over to his bed and collapsed in it, still shivering violently.

He would cry if he wasn't so tired. As it was, all he could do was sleep.

* * *

"Uncle Salazar," Rowena Ravenclaw pushed her straight, no nonsense hair out of her face and curtsied properly. She had found her uncle in his work room surrounded by books and stirring a metallic grey potion.

"Rowena, what a delightful surprise." Salazar said, lifting an eyebrow, "Have your parents sent you?"

"No, Uncle," Rowena said stepping closer and peering at the potion. She knew she had seen it before. But where? "I came myself. I wanted to see what you've been up to these last couple weeks. Usually you come visit the manor to delight my parents and I with tales of your exploits every week or so, but you've been suspiciously absent this last month." She smiled ingratiatingly.

"Ah, my dear Rowena, I've been very busy lately. I just can't seem to find any spare time. I will come by soon though, have no fear." Salazar said, giving her a smile and then stirring the potion experimentally once more before turning to fish out two goblets.

"A new pet then, Uncle?" Rowena asked innocently.

Salazar laughed. "Not anything so interesting. Matters of the state: I'll be Minister soon. I must prepare for that. But now, Rowena, I'm afraid you must excuse me," Salazar said, ladling a completed potion into two goblets. "I have something I must attend to right away."

Rowena eyed the potion suspiciously again – where had she seen it before? - and smiled at her uncle. "Of course, Uncle Salazar. I'm so sorry for dropping in unannounced." she said sweetly, "I'll show myself out."

Leaving the castle, Rowena pulled a small rough mirror out of her woolspun bag and held it to her face. "You were right, Godric," she said, speaking directly into it. "Something's not right. I didn't see a boy there at all and when I questioned him, Uncle seemed to be evading. And that potion: I'm sure it's -"

"It's what, Rowena?" Godric's face wavered into view, the image distorted, but the concern in his voice was clear. "What's going on?"

"Don't rush me, Godric," Rowena snapped, "It'll come to me." Then, curiously: "Why do you even care? You don't know the boy."

Godric's image sighed, his voice heavy. "I know. I know. But he kept trying to tell me that he wasn't a Slytherin and I kept ignoring him. I thought he must have had a knock on the head or such. And then the look on his face when he saw Slytherin. He was terrified, but I didn't think much of it. It was only later that I realized what Slytherin does to his pets. If's he's hurt the boy then…" Godric trailed off, looking vexed.

Rowena sighed. "You're such a dunderhead, Godric. Must you leap into everything headfirst. One day -" Suddenly Rowena paused in the middle of her scolding, eyes widening. "Oh, Godric! The potion!" She turned and began to run back toward the castle.

"What! What's going on?" Godric yelled, his image blurring as Rowena sped up.

"It's a branch of control potions. If he drinks it then he'll be under Salazar's control forever. It'll strip his magic away from him!"

Godric swore. "That bastard. Only a Slytherin would do something as despicable as trying to take someone else's magic away. You have to stop him." But Rowena had already stopped listening, the mirror dropped back in her bag as she ran full tilt towards Harry and her uncle.

* * *

Harry shook the drowsiness off. He was lucky he had gotten some sleep, but if Salazar thought that he was being lazy, then he'd force those horrible potions down his throat again. Against his will, his head drooped again.

"Boy," Salazar squawked, suddenly entering the room. "Listen up," As he spoke he withdrew two potions from behind his back. Harry whimpered: he knew it. "No, no," Salazar said far more gently, "Now listen, these won't keep you awake. In fact, after you drink this you may go to sleep for as long as you want. I promise."

Harry eyed the potion suspiciously, but the words, "I'm so tired," floated on the tip of his tongue and he knew he would do what Salazar wanted. He held out his hand for the potion. Quickly Salazar slashed across his palm and holding his hand steady, let a few drops of blood fall into both goblets. Then he let Harry's hand and handed him one of the goblets.

Harry clutched his burning hand to his chest and accepted the goblet with the other. He glared at the man over the rims of his glasses. How he longed to throw the steaming potion in the man's face. But no, he knew what happened when you disobeyed Salazar Slytherin. Harry shivered. He didn't want that to happen again.

And to think he'd once thought that the Cruciatus curse was bad.

In a fit of defiance, Harry raised the goblet to Salazar ironically and started to drink slowly. Salazar watched him for a few seconds and then downed his own potion in one drawn-out gulp. As soon as Salazar finished his own drink, Harry began to feel the effects of his. He hadn't drank more than a third of the goblet but he was starting to feel woozy and lightheaded: like the potion was draining all his energy. Panicked, Harry tried to spit out the potion, but Salazar stopped him.

"Now, now, Harry," Salazar said soothingly. "It's almost over. Drink the entire potion Harry. You have to drink the entire potion and it'll be over. I'll let you rest. I won't bother you again. Drink the potion, Harry." Salazar's voice began to roughen and normally Harry would have pushed the potion away just to spite the man, but maybe just this once, it would be okay to listen to the dark-haired man. After all, as long as Harry did what he was told, Salazar never hurt him. And if he didn't then Salazar would –

No, Harry decided, better not to think about it and instead drink the bloody potion. Obediently, Harry put the potion to his lips and tilted his head back.

"NO!" Suddenly a brown haired, serious looking girl burst into the room. With a frantic wave she expelled the shocked Salazar from the room and bound the room shut. Then she leapt over the small table and knocked the goblet out of Harry's hands. Great, Harry thought dully, now he'll never leave me alone. Oh well, I don't feel well anyway.

"I'm going to rest now, okay?" Harry announced childishly, lying down with his head on the pillow and his leg still on the ground. He closed his eyes.

"No, no, boy, don't go to sleep!" Rowena shouted at him, shaking him hard. He didn't wake. Stooping down, she picked up the goblet and examined the potion on the floor. Then: "Boy! Boy -" Noticing how young he was: "Child, listen to me. You've drunk half of a very dark control potion. Salazar was trying to take your magic, but the potion has a stipulation to it. Your magic is equally joined as you both drink the potion, but when you finish it, all your magic goes to Salazar. I stopped you from finishing the potion, so he hasn't taken your magic yet but -" Rowena jumped as she heard pounding at the door and magically enforced it once more. "He can still pull all your magic away from you until you die. You have to fight back. You have to take control of your magic." With a desperate cry: "Are you even listening!"

She shook him again, but his head just lolled on his shoulders like a doll. His skin was getting paler and paler against his black hair and suddenly his green eyes flew open, glazing and he shouted out an incomprehensible stream of words. Parseltongue, she realized numbly. Then his entire body seized and he begun shaking uncontrollably.

Half sobbing, Rowena dug out her mirror and screamed: "Godric, help me! He's drunk half the potion – maybe more. And Salazar taking his magic! I can't help him. He's not fighting it!"

Godric's voice came back muted, but clear: "Salazar's probably been planning this for weeks. He's weakened Harry so he wouldn't fight back. Our best chance is to get him to the Hufflepuffs. They're healers. Maybe they have a counterpotion. At the least, the magic transfer might be less potent at a distance. Can you get there?"

"Yes," Groping for Harry, Rowena dropped the mirror on the bed and reached out, tearing through the wards and aparating away.

"Good, I'm meet you there." The mirror spoke to no one except Salazar Slytherin who had just entered the empty room.

The man snarled with concentration, his brow whitening and specks of sweat appearing. He would have the boy's magic. "You'll not get away that easy, Harry. I need you too much." And then in parseltongue: "_Memento mori."_

To **B**e **C**ontinued…


End file.
